The Blue Roan
by Wah-Keetcha
Summary: Chris finds a horse and Buck finds the man he lost back in the fire.


**The Blue Roan**

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"Chris, you sure this is a good idea?" I glare at Buck as we get closer to the bucking pen where a young colt is being held. A big breeder had brought his stock into town to be sold earlier on in the month; every one of his get was bought by local cowboys and farmers, except for this colt. The breeder would pay any man who could break the colt three hundred dollars and give him the option of claiming the papers on him. It was something I had watched since the challenge had been put forth and couldn't help but become drawn to the colt's unbreakable will to stay free. After much thought and consideration of the consequences I finally made my decision and dug out my remaining gear from the days where I broke horses for a living. Stopping outside the gate I pull on the thick palmed gloves that would protect my hands from the rough leather than would be pulled from my grasp.

"Why wouldn't it be Buck?" I ask, fixing my oldest friend with a cocky look before smiling. Buck stumbles over his words, finally producing his retort

"Hell Chris, you're not as _young_ as you were before…" he starts and I shift, bringing myself to my full height before fixing the ladies man with my best threatening glare.

"Are you calling me old?" I find unmentionable amusement in watching Buck's reaction to this before giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder and a cocky smile before entering the pen where the colt was being held.

**Buck**

Now I've seen Chris break horses before, back before the war when we were traveling and working together but before he married Sarah the lean gunslinger took a nasty spill and from what the doc at the ranch said Chris chipped some bones in his back. Over the years all the injuries from the previous life have taken their toll on the middle-aged gunman but something in the way Chris looks at that colt I know he's seeing something. I watch from the rail, leaning my forearms against the rough wood and listen too all the jokes being said around me by the younger men. Chris approaches the colt and waits, patiently studying the working halter he holds in his hands, basically ignoring the animal who is watching him with a skittish curiosity. Looking closely at the little horse I can clearly see what Chris might see in the Blue Roan. The baby has large hooves and a stocky build to his shoulders, marking him to be a fairly large animal once he gains his muscle. The wide but noble head is set atop a strong, muscular neck and the body is propelled by massive hind quarters which the colt will grow into soon.

"What is that fool doing?" I jump at Nathan's concerned and slightly outraged voice as he joins me on the rail.

"He's going to break himself a colt." I smile, stating the obvious. By now many of the townsfolk got word that their hired peacekeeper was going to try and break the colt. Vin slides in beside me and we are soon joined by the other members of our group. Ezra is taking bets from the many spectators and I smirk, that man will make a profit from those who doubt Chris' skill. I turn back to watch my oldest friend do what he knows and undoubtedly loves. The colt steps closer to the silent man, nudging him in the shoulder with the black muzzle. Once the colt takes the first step Chris slowly begins to move his hands slowly to touch the neck, affectionately scratching the roan behind his ears. Chris slowly slips the training halter over the animal's nose and ears before backing off a few steps and tugging slightly. The colt reacts instantly, throwing his head high and rearing, pulling himself up straight and nearly toppling Chris. A laugh ripples through the gathered crowd when Chris' hat is knocked off by a hoof but the man stands his ground, staring the youngster down with his own determination.

"He's insane." One cowboy remarks to his buddy beside him

" Old men like him can't take the harsh blows of being thrown… he should leave it to the younger men!" the latter half was shouted so Chris could hear it above the other noises. I snort and glare at the younger man, fixing him with my best recreation of the Larabee glare.

"Listen you Yahoo…" I begin but am cut off by a collective sigh from the crowd and I turn back to see what happened, finding Chris still on his feet but glaring harshly at the animal who had finally stopped rearing and was standing calmly.

"Don't do it again." I hear Chris tell the Roan before waving his free hand and clucking the animal into a canter. I chuckle as some of the cowboys walk away, already admitting defeat and paying their money to the grinning Ezra.

"Tell me something Buck, where did Chris learn break horses like this?" Vin asks quietly, watching his friend work the colt on voice commands and simple praise.

"Well, from what I learned from Chris himself and others is that Chris' father taught him how to train horses and respect them, instead of beating them into submission. When we were breaking horses on all those ranches when we were younger he would get pissed when he saw a man beating a young horse, that's what got us kicked off many ranches." I smile at the memories of the many scrapes he got into while working. Vin nods slowly and goes back to watching the gunman as he brings the colt to a halt with just a low 'whoa'. He looks back at me and flashes a small smirk before calling

"Buck, can you get me that bridle and gear?" I nod and quickly pick up the old saddle and bridle, maneuvering slowly over to where the man stood patting the blue roan. Up close you can see more of the animal's will that standing outside the fence. In a way the baby reminds me of the young man I met earlier in life who wouldn't take grief from anyone. Maybe that's what Chris saw in this horse, he saw what he once was before all the hardships of life came crashing down onto his shoulders.

"You know how this works right Buck?" he smiles and I nod, licking my lips before taking the rope lead and holding the baby's head.

"Easy there." I mutter and watch as Chris allows the baby to get acquainted with the saddle pad before pulling the saddle close to him. The baby stands patiently, like he had been doing this sort of thing his whole life. The people around the pen seem to be amazed by this and are watching with bated breath. Soon the saddle is atop the horses' broad back and Chris is putting his weight in the stirrup, leaning across the colt's back. The baby twitches slightly but calms at Chris' soothing words, standing still once more. My job in this whole process is to stand guard in case the colt should suddenly rear or spook while Chris is leaning across the back, not properly seated. We've done this countless times before and like a well trained team we settle into the routine that was lost after the deaths of his family. No one else matters at this moment, only me, Chris and the Blue Roan colt. There are no sounds other than that of the old leather, the nervous snorts of the colt and the cooing words of myself and Chris. Next comes the bridle, this is where I gently message the delicate ear, getting the animal to lower his head. Chris holds the small metal bar just outside the baby's mouth and gently coaxes the black lips to part and teeth to spread before placing the bit in the tender mouth. No banging of teeth or twitching involved just simple patience and trust.

"Okay, now lets back off for a few moments and let him get his wits about him before we finish this." Chris says, a bit breathlessly as we stride to the rails and watch. Baby stands there for a moment and watches us watch him before snorting and neighing loudly at Chris, unsure if he could even move with the strange weight. Chris smiles slightly before turning back to face me with a nod, we return back to the animal left standing in the center of the pen. I catch the baby's head and once I've got a good hold I mouth a 'set' to Chris who quickly vaults onto the awaiting saddle. I let the horses head go and make a dash for the rail as the colt lets out an enraged scream and begins to buck. Getting to the outside quickly I watch my oldest friend ride and am excited to see the joy on the man's face as he rides the willful beast. This is what Chris is good at, the man has a strict eye for horseflesh and a gift when it comes to understanding what's going on in the animal's head. For the first time in a long while I'm seeing the man I became friends with, he hell-raising, hard working, prideful man known only as Chris Larabee the hand, not the moody, cold hearted gunfighter he is now. Vin smiles widely as he watches Chris ride the colt and Nathan mutters something about a hot bath and salve for bruises. Ezra is grinning ear to ear as more bets come his way and he greedily accepts them. JD is watching his mentor with amazement as the colt begins to get rougher with his bucks and Chris rides through them, gritting his teeth. Josiah is laughing at the whole thing, calling out loudly from where he stands

"Ride him Brother Chris!" I laugh and clap the larger man on the shoulder. The inevitable happens though, not long after the encouraging words are shouted, the colt lets out a mighty buck and spins in midair before toppling over on himself, grinding his rider into the dirt underneath in an attempt to get the offending human off his back. I spring into action, Nathan right behind me as we enter the pen. I grab the heavily breathing animal and sooth him, turning anxious eyes to stare at my fallen friend, watching as Nathan helps the gunman sit up and encourages him to take deep breaths. Chris nods at Nathan's instructions and is soon standing on shaky legs but coming to collect his reins once more, his walk a bit stiff and a slightly agonized look whenever he breaths but intact and well.

"Good one you beast, not going to get me this time though. Knocked the wind out of me… he's a smart one." Chris wheezes, stopping to collect his air before jumping back into the saddle and setting off a similar chain of events. I scramble back to the rail and watch as Chris rides the green colt, his spurs not touching the bluish-black sides but keeping pressure with his calves. Soon as the bucking started the colt stops and finally snorts his defiance, having worn himself out. Chris heaves a sigh before patting the sweaty neck and nudging the horse into a trot, which the horse obeys obediently. He slows the colt to a walk and rides toward the rail where I open the gate and watch as the people make a pathway for the man and his newly acquired mount. Chris rides the green horse over to where the wealthy owner stands and takes the man's offered hand. It was over, the colt that had been bucking people off for nearly a month now has been tamed and just in the fact that Chris was the one who did it just reaffirms my belief that the wounds on my friends soul are finally healing.

Later that night I meet up with Chris on his way to the saloon after grooming and putting away his new horse, we walk in silence for a few paces before I break the night air

"Felt like old times out there." I cast a look at the gunman and find the man's usually cold and hard eyes filled with an emotion that has been absent from the depths for a long while, happiness.

"Yeah, it did." He says slowly, stopping to look at me as we reach the saloon.

"Buck, I know I haven't been a good friend to you but I just want you to know that I really do value your friendship." He says and I am at a lost for words. This showing of emotions is so unlike Chris I'm not sure how to respond, never since knowing the man has he really ever said something so.. open before. I guess my surprise must have showed on my face because Chris grins slightly before clapping me on the shoulder

"Looks like even us old men change huh?" he turns on his heel and walks away before I can get my foot out of my mouth and catch up with him. The cold expression is back in the place but under the frosty glaze I know there lurks the old Chris Larabee, the man that I believed dead to the world until now.

"So, what are you going to do with the colt now?" I ask, following the gunslinger into the Saloon

"I'm going to geld the little bastard first, then I'm going to name him." He says and I laugh heartily, earning a chuckle from my long time friend and confused looks from the patrons of the Four Corners Saloon. Just like old times indeed, maybe with a few more worry lines and aches but everything is the same and will always remain that way.


End file.
